As I’ve written before, I used to love my trips as a child with my father. We went plenty of places, but the ones that stick out most were to New York City. Inexplicably, when I got a certain age (still a kid in my book), he let me roam free. But never, ever, to my knowledge, did I buy something of any value without his permission.
So this is where the paths begin to differ.
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My ten year old son and I just completed our 4th Annual Father Son Labor Day Sports Trip. The first year we went to Detroit. The second year we went to Los Angeles. The third year we went to San Francisco. This year? My son’s beloved Boston, Massachusetts. On this year’s trip, I instituted a new rule: no screens for him and minimal screens (taking pictures, etc) for me. I was hyped. He behaved like a child, and I mean that in a great way. He behaved like a kid, alive and present in this world.
…and a little mischievous.
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We had no sooner arrived inside Alumni Stadium at Boston College than I had lost my son. Thirty seconds in, and he was gone. I looked right and left and eventually spotted him by a table under the bleachers. Curious as ever, I meandered over to find him writing Banks Bostic opening bid $125 on a sheet of paper under a framed picture. The picture, which he later likened to the Mona Lisa, was a giant framed photograph of his beloved Jayson Tatum dunking over LeBron James. My son was well pleased. I immediately began thinking about how we would transport this item home if he won. Totally engaged in the process, my son got outbid but then re-bid and eventually won, snagging the framed photo for $155. Unconcerned about where this money was coming from or how the picture was getting home, he said, Dad, this is going to look great in the sports room.
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Later that evening at Gillette Stadium, the weather turned a little nippy. We were both excited for the game between the New England Revolution and my beloved Charlotte FC, and I was rocking my new authentic Charlotte FC jersey for the first time. Fast forward to the 87th minute of a tied game, and Charlotte FC scored on a thundering header to win the game 2-1. This all happened right in front of where we were sitting, so moments later when the final whistle blew, my son began screaming at me to take my jersey off. I screamed back that I was already freezing, but he was hellbent on getting my only once-worn jersey autographed by someone. Sure enough, the rock of the Charlotte FC defense during their eight game win streak came over all smiles, had a chat with us, and signed my jersey. My son was well pleased, but I politely asked him to give me my now autographed jersey back since I was shivering.
I couldn’t imagine what was in store next.
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The following morning brought sunshine and heat again, but not Mississippi heat. Boston heat. It was Sunday at Fenway, and after the game Banks planned on completing his holy trinity of base running: Dodger Stadium, Wrigley Field, and now Fenway Park. We met up with some of our old friends who now live in the area, and the six of us enjoyed a beautiful afternoon in the right field bleachers at Fenway Park. Unbelievably, we even saw an inside the park home run! After the game, all the kids gathered on the field and slowly inched towards the infield to begin their base running extravaganza. As we waited around the infamous Pesky’s Pole in right field, I saw my son climb up on the fence, and I wondered what in the hell he was doing. Prior to the security guard running over to shoo him down, he may or may not have joined the legions of others who have autographed Pesky’s Pole. (I am not at liberty to say whether this actually happened.)
My son did not like being yelled at, but deep down, I think he was well pleased.
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I remember clearly the freedom that I felt being able to roam about New York City as a child. I saw a little glimpse of that with my son this trip in Boston. He already loved the city, and now, well…
…we got an autograph to bring back to coastal Mississippi, and he may have left one in Boston to remain forever. Or at least until they repaint the foul pole.
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Have a great week.-Benj
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